


Blissfully Ordinary: In Which Someone Wins a Fist Fight, but Not Who You Think

by LizzieHarker



Series: Blissfully Ordinary, Boringly Domestic [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: M/M, Maslenitsa, Natasha and Bucky celebrate a national Russian holiday, Nothing says Russian pride like pancakes and butter and fist fights, Pancake Week, Russian Mardi Gras, Slice of Life, Steve goes along for the ride and the pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieHarker/pseuds/LizzieHarker
Summary: Steve had barely opened his mouth to ask what Bucky’d meant by “Russian Mardi Gras,” before he’d been shoved out the door, a scarf hastily wrapped around his neck, and dragged onto a train headed for Brighton Beach. Buck beamed, gleefully pulling Steve along. A million questions swarmed Steve’s mind, but the first thing he said when he stepped off the train was, “Do you smell pancakes?”





	Blissfully Ordinary: In Which Someone Wins a Fist Fight, but Not Who You Think

**Author's Note:**

> *Full disclosure: I used Google Translate for the Russian so I'm probably wrong. Sorry. Rough translations at the end!

Steve had barely opened his mouth to ask what Bucky’d meant by “Russian Mardi Gras,” before he’d been shoved out the door, a scarf hastily wrapped around his neck, and dragged onto a train headed for Brighton Beach. Buck beamed, gleefully pulling Steve along. A million questions swarmed Steve’s mind, but the first thing he said when he stepped off the train was, “Do you smell pancakes?”

“Blini,” Bucky corrected. He didn’t elaborate.

“What’s a blini?”

Bucky only smiled, skirting past a few people before they emerged in the throng of food carts and brightly dressed dancers. One familiar redhead stood to the side, arms crossed.

Bucky raised his arm in greeting. “Zdravsvuyte, Natalia.*”

“James,” she answered. Natasha alone ever called Bucky by his first name. She was the only one allowed. “Vy privezli Stiva.*”

“Konechno. On nikogda ne proboval blini.*”

Steve watched them back and forth, swearing to secretly learn Russian. It wasn’t fair his boyfriend and his best friend could gossip about him behind his back. Not that he’d tell them he’d learned Russian. Not that they'd stop just because he could understand them.

“Uh, hey, wanna fill me in here?”

Natasha smirked. “On ne znayet?*”

“Het.*”

This time, Natasha smirked at Steve. “Otlichno.*”

“Sure, keep talking in your secret spy language. Don’t mind me,” Steve griped. 

Leaning over, Bucky kissed his cheek. “We take you poor American to see real Russian tradition, da?” he teased. “Today is Maslenitsa. Is day for celebration before Lent.”

Steve snorted. “Like we ever kept up with Lent.”

“You did.”

“We celebrate as all proper Russians do,” Natasha added. “With butter, fistfights, and pancakes.”

That caught his attention. Steve lit right up. “Pancakes?”

“Well, blini are more like crepes, but yeah, you get the general idea. Sweet, savory, whatever you want, babydoll.”

Natasha and Bucky each took his arm and walked him through the festival, chattering to each other in Russian and clueing Steve in every now and then. Nat ordered something, shoving the plate in Steve’s direction when it came up, a thin crepe with salmon and cream cheese. It smelled delicious, and the second Steve devoured it, he wished he had another. Bucky handed him another plate and Steve didn’t bother looking as he took a bite.

He cringed. That was . . . less good. He promptly disposed of the rest in a trash can, spitting out what he'd learned was chicken liver. Nat slugged Bucky’s shoulder, chiding him. Bucky kissed Steve’s cheek in apology. At least _that_ was a language he understood.

Steve let them lead, taking in the laughter, the smiles, the bright colors, and delicious scents of the celebration. Of course, he only accepted crepes—blini, she corrected—from Natasha. The jam ones were his favorite. If he asked nicely, maybe Bucky would make them for him one morning.

He wandered along, thoroughly enjoy the day, when suddenly Natasha vanished from his side. He never felt her arm slip from his, but when he turned back, he caught sight of her, hip cocked, a tall, broad-shouldered man in front of her.

“Oh, this looks bad,” he said, tugged at Bucky’s arm.

Bucky raised a brow. “For him.”

As Steve watched, Nat squared off, balled her fists, and went after the guy with aplomb. Even Steve refused to spar with Nat, but damn, watching her take down a 250-pound man never got old.

“Natalia, chto sluchilos’?"

She ducked, planted both hands on the ground, and swept the guy. “On skhvatil moyu zadnitsu.*”

“Ah.” Bucky turned to Steve. “He grabbed her ass.”

He frowned, eyes narrowed. “Buck, how do you say ‘Wreck him’ in Russian?”

He smirked. “Razrush’ yego.*”

The crowd started turning around from the stalls, circling around Natasha as the man picked himself up. He launched for her, but she sidestepped, ramming her elbow into his spine. This time, he stayed down. 

Steve moved closer to Bucky, suddenly wary as the circle drew in closer. “Uh, Buck?”

Bucky held him tighter. “I did mention the fist fights, right?”

The festival broke into mayhem, Natasha at the center taking down opponents left and right. Steve felt himself moved backward and suddenly he stood outside the crowd, the tension in his chest easing. Buck’s fingers laced through his own, and he lead Steve to a fire escape overlooking the crowd. Natasha held her own, dropping men like flies.

“I really like her,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist.

Steve leaned into him, a smile spreading across his face. “Minute I met her, I knew you two you’d get along. Must be nice not having to drag someone out of a brawl.”

Buck shrugged. “She’d deck me if I tried. Besides, it’s Nat’s favorite holiday. Who am I to deny her some season cheer?”

A roar sound from the crowd: season cheer, huh? Steve tipped his head back and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations!
> 
> *Zdravsvuyte, Natalia.-- Hello, Natalia.  
> *Vy privezli Stiva.--I see you brought Steve.  
> *Konechno. On nikogda ne proboval blini.--Of course. He's never tried blini.  
> *On ne znayet?--He doesn't know?  
> *Het.--"No."  
> *Otlichno.--Excellent.
> 
> *Natalia, chto sluchilos’?--Natalia, what happened?  
> *On skhvatil moyu zadnitsu.--He grabbed my ass.  
> *Razrush’ yego.--Wreck him. (Technically, "you'll destroy him")
> 
> \------
> 
>  
> 
> Follow me [on Tumblr!](http://lizzieharker.tumblr.com/)


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